


Livia Goes to the Medicus

by Arianne, patrexes



Series: Kinktober 2019 [23]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon Consensual Incestuous Relationship, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/pseuds/Arianne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes
Summary: The medicus lets himself into her room, and pulls back the curtain without looking up from what must be his written orders: his patient’s request for a full examination for the purpose of contraception.
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar/Livia sas Junius, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Kinktober 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492133
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Livia Goes to the Medicus

**Author's Note:**

> warning for a single, brief reference to sexual assault.  
> prompt: latex

When she hears the knock at the door Livia wishes more than anything it would be Gaius come to see her stripped bare, her legs spread wide in stirrups, her open cunt on display—but he would not _knock_ when they both know Livia, like all else in Ala Mhigo, belongs to him. She can feel the wetness between her lips just to think of it.

But it is a much softer voice which asks from behind the door, “bas Junius?”

“Sir,” she answers, playing the soldier she hopes against hope Gaius will next nameday allow her to become.

The medicus lets himself into her room, and pulls back the curtain without looking up from what must be his written orders: his patient’s request for a full examination for the purpose of contraception. Livia feels fond when he wastes no more time, perching on a stool set between her thighs and taking something from the tray set out with a medicus’ various implements. Livia had inspected it in curiosity as she waited, naked and taking up her position upon the table moments after the nurse had left her unattended to undress and await the medicus: gloves, squares of cotton, bottles of solutions she did not recognize, sharp to her nose. She had picked up one of the metal clamps, turned it over in her hand, thought about how it would look in Gaius’ hand, how it would feel closed around her clit; set it down again next to a wide metal instrument, sized such she was all but positive it was meant to go inside her; and finally there was a length of metal almost wire-thin, curved at the end, so narrow she could not begin to guess its purpose.

The medicus pulls on the gloves, white rubber which snaps around his wrists. He is a Miqo’te, and Livia suspects not large for one; his hands are well smaller than hers, which already feel like little enough inside her those nights Gaius has been called away on business, or summoned to the Emperor’s bed alone.

“The nurse’s notes say you’re here for contraception?” He looks up to Livia’s nod, and continues. “The protocol is a routine examination first, and then we can discuss what options are best suited to your needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Livia grins, and lowers herself from her elbows to lay flat on the table upon her back.

Through the rubber the medicus’ fingertips are cold upon her lips, like Gaius’ when he’s just come inside from the chill, those few times he has had her during visits to the capital. But Gaius would not touch so gingerly, grasping her lips in turn, methodically pressing so gently it is more annoyance than touch. He would catch her clit between his thumb and finger and squeeze until she shrieked, or crush it beneath the pad of one of his broad fingers—else he would press lower, find her cunt and push inside, hard going when she has had mere seconds to get wet. She would relish the friction of it, how difficult it is; the strength he uses to overcome the resistance in her tight dry cunt and pull it open, for no other reason than he can, that it pleases them both when Livia’s body must bear his claim.

The medicus’ touch is slow, gentle, _infuriating_ , but at long last he spreads her open and does _not_ let go, pushing between her labia and pinning them apart beneath his fingers. Livia shivers not for the Ala Mhigan warmth, but because Gaius too takes his pleasure in looking. When he has her in his bed, and they have the luxury of time, he might first press her legs open, part her lips and simply look at her cunt, neat—as neat as she ever keeps it now—and tight, and wet in her center anticipating him. And no matter if they are in his bed or his office or some partial seclusion in the palace, he likes to lift her shaking thighs and admire her after his use; clean the mess from the stretched, torn wreck he’s made of her, lapping the blood from her lips and licking it out of her cunt. He has not yet found more than a trace of his own taste within her, despite her pleas—but of course, that is why she is here.

The medicus frowns from his place between her legs, and his eyes flick up to meet hers as he says in a tone carefully blank, imparting no sense of his opinion, “You have quite a few injuries.”

“Not really,” says Livia with a casual wave of her hand. There were only a few spots of blood on the tissue when she last used the facilities, and her cunt hardly stung at all. Gaius had used her well of late, but not _roughly_ , always waiting until she was wet for him to give her his cock, and last night refusing even while she was dripping with arousal and begging for it to give her the whole of his fist. She would _tear_ for it, he’d said, as if she does not want him to break her apart.

 _Rough_ would be taking his cock dry, which he’s never given her—his own preference, so she _hmph_ s and bears it, since he caters so often to her wants. _Rough_ is the unforgiving hilt of a knife with no preparation, on those nights something keeps her father from her bed and so she must entertain herself somehow. _Rough_ , and you could tell from her gait she had been debauched.

The medicus raises an eyebrow, bemused but allowing it. “Very well, then,” he says. “They seem mild, though there are a few. I assume you’re sexually active?”

Livia considers. “Sometimes,” she says. “Passive more often, lately.” At the dour look on his face, she amends, “Yes,” with a roll of her eyes. Couldn’t he take a _joke?_

His cold, gloved fingers prod at a shallow rip in the front wall of her cunt—cut into her by her own fingernails some days past, contorting herself to force her fist inside, scraping down over sensitive skin to feel well-used in Gaius’ absence—and Livia hisses at the pain of it, her cunt clenching around the Miqo’te’s slender fingers and clit throbbing for the arc of _want_ the pain cut through her.

Livia feels his fingers leave her, and her lips fall closed—as near as they can. Years ago when she had held a mirror between her own thighs, seeing herself for the first time, they had gaped a little; she thinks—hopes—that now she looks truly as open as she so often feels, for how badly her father’s cock makes her stretch.

“You won’t need any sutures. The fissures should heal without any issue. Take a break from intercourse and return in a few weeks’ time.”

Livia frowns. “I have to come _back_? Why can’t you do the examination now?”

“I _can_ ,” the medicus says dubiously, “but we’re under strict orders to reserve potions only for emergencies—and the examination is invasive and uncomfortable at best. With these injuries, it will be… unpleasant, to say the least.”

Is that all? “I don’t mind unpleasantness,” says Livia. She’ll be tribunus soon, if she has her way—she doesn’t need to be coddled even by legionary medici. And she wants this done with, so Gaius can _finally_ fuck her properly raw.

“If at any time you’d like to stop, you need only say the word,” the medicus says, but she does not have to argue her point any further, simply lets her head fall back to the table when once again she feels his touch. Where it had been exploratory, it is now focused: with the fingers of one hand he holds open her cunt, wide enough to sting for the tugging on her wounds. She can hear him rummage through the tray of instruments laid out, but no clink of metal; it is only rough woven cotton gauze she feels, strangely warm after the chill of his hands, rubbing softly over her swollen flesh.

“I cannot perform the exam when the area is wet,” he explains to her unspoken question. She can feel she _is_ wet, and has been, at least since the medicus’ attention had recalled her father’s, if not from the moment she placed her legs in the stirrups. The medicus swipes several sheets of gauze between her legs one after another, setting each aside wet with her slick and what must be, in part, her blood. Her thighs tense when the next comes rougher, scrubbing across her entrance, and then is pressed just inside and left there as the medicus sits back slightly and exchanges his glove for a clean one.

When he returns he pinches the gauze, and pulls. Livia gasps at the drag of the weave across the fissures inside her cunt, nearly dry where it had been dripping—and he must judge it dry enough, for in a single motion he presses one slender finger up into her cunt. The burn is only slight, mere friction where she is used to strain. The rubber is unnaturally smooth inside her, a wholly peculiar sensation when she is so used to Gaius’ rough hands, the ragged calluses on her own fingers from her pugilist’s training. The smoothest thing that she has ever felt inside her cunt is the hilt of a blade.

This feels nothing at all like her knife, nothing at all like her father’s touch. The medicus’ finger even inserted fully is hardly far enough Livia can feel it—but she gasps as he presses the length of it upward toward the front of her cunt, catching the raw edges of the tearing. Even beyond the sting the pressure is deep, and Livia feels she could piss—moreso, in a way, when he curls his finger and rubs the inside of her raw cunt for whatever the purpose of this test, and in the process digs into the raw wound.

She can feel herself wet again, and from nothing but arousal and blood.

As quickly as the pressure began it is released, the medicus’ gloved hands inside her not to seek her pleasure but apparently to take notes on how accustomed she is to use, and that clinical eye is thrilling in its own way. But he does not yet leave her empty (near enough to it though she feels): the medicus turns his hand at the wrist, and Livia feels a gentle pushing at her entrance that could be little else but a second of the medicus’ slight fingers. He sweeps them downward, broad pressure against her perineum where her cunt so often breaks, but he does not favor the scars she so often seeks to feel beneath her own fingers.

Instead he pinches her opening between his fingers and thumb, rocking his hand. The motion is almost familiar, even when Livia has never felt anything quite like it—and then she places it, the sight of the Emperor’s long fingers buried in her father’s ass, seeking out something inside him that makes him quake in His Radiance’s grip, protests falling from his lips that Livia must swallow up with her own mouth to keep the Emperor appeased. Gaius reviles this touch, though Livia now does not quite understand why: the sensation is neither pain nor pleasure, simply _strange_ , a particular sort of invasive unlike even penetration—if Gaius were to replicate it, with broader fingers and more of them, firmer pressure, if he would consider giving her even this much dry—

“All feels normal,” the medicus interrupts her thought to say, and she exhales more roughly than etiquette might ask of her—though if she cannot be forgiven now, legs open and being penetrated on a medicus’ table, she knows not when she _could_.

His fingers slip out, as slick now as they would have been had she not been wiped dry, and he pauses a moment to look at her from between her legs. “You’re young for it still, but while I have you in stirrups already, a cervical smear wouldn’t go amiss.” Her confusion must be plain on her face, for he continues, “A preventative procedure. It has been in use for several years in the capital.”

“A procedure?”

“A simple one. An instrument would be inserted and opened, and a sample taken from the neck of the womb.”

“Is it painful?” Livia asks, fascination without fear.

The medicus hesitates. “I have never performed it on a patient with such injuries.”

Livia hears _yes_.

“Do it,” she instructs, and a thrill runs through her to settle between her legs when the medicus reaches for the instrument she had _hoped_ she’d get to feel inside her.

“The speculum,” the medicus informs her, holding it in his hand: hinged, near-flat metal that gleams like a blade. Livia lifts herself onto her elbows once more to look down between her own thighs, to watch as he brings it near, parts her lips harsh and purposeful as her father those nights he aches from need of her, and sets the instrument at the mouth of her defenseless cunt, her opening clutching swollen and hot at cold metal threatening to pierce her.

“Pressure now,” the medicus warns, and pushes.

Her cunt takes it easily enough, too well-fucked now to resist as it had when she first discovered that a hole lie between her legs, and again when Gaius deemed her able to take not only her own fingers but his. The blades—their rounded edges entirely like the dull edge of a knife—are no more the width of Gaius’ cock but rigid as his knuckles, penetrating her without _filling_ her, _teasing_ as it goes deep and deeper still.

“Hold still.” It is not Gaius’ playful scolding but a suggestion verging on an order, and Livia realizes she has rocked her hips, exploring the pressure as she is entered. For only lack of opportunity, she has not yet mastered the sensation. When her father has her in his lap, he steadies her hips as he fucks up into her; when he is atop her, her legs raised and pinned between them, she cannot move at all. Neither allow her body to truly react to the shock of being taken so deeply—but then she does not _want_ it to feel any less a violation, that she might one day forget what it felt to be wounded.

—and then her cunt is taken no deeper, but is spread wide instead. It is slow, perhaps meant to feel gentle, but what could she find gentle in being not just penetrated but pried apart? When she is taken by Gaius’ cock it is sudden, its thickness forced fully inside her in as quickly as her hole can be made to accept it, to take his pleasure in a proper hard fuck. She considers how she might cajole him to open her like this, on his fingers or this very instrument, when next they play at virginity: that in order to take her he must first stretch out her tiny unbroken cunt.

“More pressure,” the medicus all but soothes as the speculum opens her deep, deep, wide enough she feels the stretch of it as pain, revels in it. Her walls try to clench and cannot, held apart by some unfeeling mechanism of the device—her cunt pushes at the device itself, struggles against the inescapable ache of being opened, and the medicus holds it firmly in its place within her, baring her very womb.

She is panting for breath when she hears the medicus’ voice. “Are you well?” She nods at once. “The pain is not too great?”

And _oh_ , she must look pained—she _is_ pained, the stretch pulling sharply, breaking the clots where her cunt had been ripped so that her lips must be streaked with bright new blood and clear, viscous coagulum. It’s nothing at all like Gaius’ cock, but hard and unyielding as the hilt of her knife, if not larger still. She cannot think when she is so full—or not full, but _open_ , and when she next focuses her vision it is to the medicus leaning down close between her thighs, taking up a small bulb to look within.

She wants—she _needs_ Gaius to force her this far open if only so he can see inside. Her cunt is his to use as he pleases, to lick and fuck and stretch, to look at, at times only to slip his fingers up into her and take nothing else, not even seeking pleasure in his own hand or Livia’s—but he has never _seen_ her, not this deep, and she can think of no greater intimacy to offer, save for a child she must not (yet) bear him.

She hears the medicus vaguely, telling her that he must now clean and dry the cervix, and Livia nods along. From her peripheral vision she sees the motion of his hands in their stark white rubber pouring from a bottle, taking up the forceps Livia had left askew on his tray. He is a soldier as well as a medicus; he does not hesitate, threading the tool between her legs, between the held-open walls of her gaping cunt (to train her body to gape like this for _him_ , someday, should she ever find herself willing to stop reliving those months she was too tight, torn apart on Gaius’ cock beyond the cuts she bears now, that are inevitable from being fucked).

The first sensation to register is _cold_ , deep within where she is certain she has never before felt it. “Still,” the medicus urges her, and looking down at herself she realizes again she has tensed her legs, dug her heels into the stirrups, near lifted her hips from the table. With effort she lies back, closes her eyes, holds the image of her own cunt split open, as much a wound as if it were Gaius standing between her legs.

The forceps are removed, the cotton on the end changed for new, and inserted again through the gaping entrance to her cunt. It is dry again, she thinks, warm but rough, and she fights the need to close her legs, an instinctive response to being touched so deeply she has yet failed to fully overcome. The medicus moves quickly, and no sooner has he withdrawn one instrument to replace it with another: not a further bit of gauze but the wire, avoiding her exposed, taut walls—if Gaius could have her thus, for how he speaks about having her wet cunt wrapped so sweetly around his tongue—

“I’m nearly finished,” the medicus says, but Livia only feels her muscles seize, her head swim. She aches, and she cannot tell if it is too dry or too wet, and the instrument is reaching _inside_ somewhere even Gaius has not reached—has not reached _yet_ , if all it takes to expose her so is having her cunt opened. She throws her head back on the table, clit throbbing, hands at her sides, legs spread to be stretched open and pushed into, and the pain is—it is a pinpoint like the tip of a knife, nothing like the pain when she is penetrated, that stretching and fullness which still bring water to her eyes.

The medicus does something inside her, something that twists below the pit of her stomach, and Livia comes, feeling the spasms in her womb, the contractions in her straining cunt so desperate to close.

She pants breath as he announces the procedure is complete, sits back as he sets aside the instrument. A moment later there is a sudden release both satisfying and not, her cunt relieved of the speculum’s terrible pressure. The edges that had felt so blunt become sharp as they drag against her, and then she is left empty, soft as if she had been fucked, when she can feel the use but the soreness has not yet set in.

Though her lips _must_ gape she feels pressure once again between them; a moment later hears, “Just one last thing,” and in the way of legionary medici, he does not bother to explain further. His fingers—for they must be his fingers, soft and now feeling so warm even when she is _hot_ inside—press into the gape of her, reaching deep, deeper than she thought he could. They catch what must be her womb between it and a hand pressing down between her hips; the pressure focused on the cervix hurts uniquely, but the rest is merely uncomfortable—uninteresting even were it Gaius’ rough hands upon her.

Livia aches to reach down and feel her own cunt, compare this damage to that Gaius inflicts; empty, loose, and wet with slick and blood from reopened wounds, he would lick her clean on this table if only his reputation could survive it.

The medicus strips off his gloves when he sits back, and it is on shaking arms she once again raises herself, to look him in the eyes.

“Everything seems in order,” he begins, and she smiles, in some strange way proud. “There are several options for contraception, all effective. Do you plan to join the legions?”

“Of course,” Livia says.

“I thought as much. Some legionnaires stationed locally choose injections, but most prefer a coil...”

**Author's Note:**

> this is a work of fiction. events described are products of the authors' imaginations and are used ~~fictitiously~~ fetishistically. any resemblance to real medical practice, current or past, is purely coincidental.


End file.
